


We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed

by Luxes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Humanstuck, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misophonia, Rated T aside from that one scene which is pretty mild, Synesthesia, bipolar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxes/pseuds/Luxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anybody would say that maybe he's troubled. Maybe he had too much on his mind. Maybe he was stressed.</p><p>He <i>was</i> stressed, but that wasn't the reason. It's never the reason. When he's stressed he dreams of drowning but not quite. Suffocating but breathing at the same time, usually in a bottomless pool. </p><p>No, he knows why he's like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i have synesthesia so i decided to write about how much it sucks. i also wanted to write about what a humanstuck erisolsprite-ish relationship would be like, y'know minus the whole existing in the same body thing. i haven't written 3rd person in a long time, bear with me.

He dreams of bees. 

He's always talking to someone when they appear, outside, literally out of thin air. The buzzing follows him in his ears even when he's running from them, and they chase, bumping and invading his personal spaces. Sometimes they don't do anything; bumble bees and honey bees will just sit on him, waiting, staring, making their presence known and their weight shift heavily on his body – so heavy he can't move, can't breathe.

Sometimes though, he dreams of hornets. Wasps and yellow jackets, furiously flying around his head, trying to get in. One time he swallowed three of them in a nightmare and he woke up screaming as they strung the inside of his throat. He swore he could feel the hairs on their legs and the fluttering of their wings inside of his neck for a week.

They always sting, but they never hurt.

It's nothing but a terrifying, lucid pressure on his back or in his head. It yanks him out from his slumber, sweating and too cold for it being mid August.

He'll lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sounds of the insects. Maybe he'd wake up one day and it wouldn't be a nightmare. They'd be in his room, swarming and aiming their pointed barbs at him. Anybody would say that maybe he's troubled. Maybe he had too much on his mind. Maybe he was stressed.

He _was_ stressed, but that wasn't the reason. It's never the reason. When he's stressed he dreams of drowning but not quite. Suffocating but breathing at the same time, usually in a bottomless pool. 

No, he knows why he's like this.

He can hear it in the other room, walls thin like paper – he can make out the sounds of the other man opening a bag of chips as he settles in his bed, getting ready to begin a long night of sewing intangible lines of numbers and code. The only thing that separates their beds is the pathetic sheet of plaster that divides their rooms from one another, put there by an old couple who got tired of seeing their kids fighting over a bedroom. He wonders how those kids are doing now. Did they get like this too? Maybe he should move out, take the route that the family who lived here before they did and get the fuck away from this place. Away from _him_.

He can hear him crunch down on a chip, and that's his cue to get out of bed. It's 2AM, too late for him to be awake but early enough for him not to care. He finds his glasses on the nightstand and sighs, holding his head in his hands.

There was no medication for him to take. There was nothing he could do about this condition. That persistent disorder that plagued his senses even in his sleep, never giving him a moment to rest. Everything was loud, much too loud, and he could taste cobwebs in his mouth and the world was in grayscale like an old Adam's Family TV Special. He could see the tear of film flash across his vision like he was looking right through a shitty projector. It had been so long since he'd seen something beautiful.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember the song he heard back then, the way the water splashed against his goggles and the light hit the surface of the pool. The way it shined on his best friends face, so excited to paddle her way to his side and grab his shoulders. She hugged him and it felt like home. It smelled like chocolate chip cookies and tasted like citrus. Her voice sounded like butterflies and it was perfect, so fucking _perfect_.

He clings to those memories as he stands and makes his way out of the room, head aching. It takes him a while to come down, and now that he's not in his prison cell he can't hear the tapping of slender fingers over keys, inconsistently clicking and clicking and clicking and slamming the space bar with his thumb until he curses under his breath and presses the backspace that has a crumb stuck under in it that he _still_ hasn't taken out. He walks down the hall and into the den area so he can open a window, sticking his head out and breathing in the night time air.

It's wet, like damp clothing, but he doesn't mind. He breathes in again to clear his head, letting the sounds of the city take him in, remind him that there's life outside of his box of colors and noises.

Eridan is well. He's not sick. He's not in danger. This is just how he is. This is how things turned out for him. The doctors say it's a mutation in his neurons, something that develops just outside the autistic spectrum, but isn't quite the same. He gets overstimulated, and he has special interests and can listen to the same song on repeat 200 times if he really wanted to. He sees things other people can't; smells what blue tastes like and can understand the way pink has trouble playing with others. Purple is his favorite, and gold is an anti-social brat just like his roommate. The rift he can play on the guitar looks like a cloud on a rainy day.

And _him_. He is _bees_. Yellow and black stripes when he stands in he kitchen to make himself a hot pocket and buzzing violently whenever he speaks. When they argue it feels like there are stringers in Eridan's ears and Sollux is always so loud it hurts, but he can't do anything to cope except yell back at the top of his lungs, hoping that maybe he could drown out the other man's sounds. He wishes he could trade him in for someone else. Maybe ask Karkat if he could move in. 

They didn't like each other. They hated one another. The only reason they shared this garbage house was because Feferi moved away for college with Aradia and neither man wanted to be separated from their crutches. New York was expensive, too expensive to live on your own, so they agreed to rent a small home together. Cheaper than a real house, more expensive than an apartment, but they needed the extra rooms for the girls when they visited. That didn't mean they liked it. It was awful. The house was lovely (Eridan paid for most of it) but the company was shit.

“What are you doing?” His voice buzzes in Eridan's ears and he cringes, turning his head to glare at the other man. His headphones are wrapped around his neck, wireless, and he's got a coffee mug with a black spade on it in his hand. Sollux stares, expecting a reply, and Eridan looks away so he can lean back out the window.

“I needed some air, but this place smells like piss.” He comments, frowning.

“Then close the window? It's letting out all the cold air, anyway.” He turns on his heel so he can walk into the kitchen. Eridan can feel his gut tightening, and soon enough he's sinking, sticky with tar. He struggles to lift his arms, like there are weights holding him back, and shuts the window. He lets his forehead lean against the glass and he closes his eyes, ignoring the feeling of Sollux's eyes on him while the man makes his coffee. 

They don't exchange anymore words. Eridan finds his way into the dining room and grabs a mug from the cabinet, then the creamer from the fridge. He waits by Sollux's side at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee machine as it hums and steams until the pot below is full of black liquid. The other man is the first to pour some for himself, filling it to the top of his cup. Eridan fills about half of his with the creamer and he makes sure that it's exactly half, that he can smell it, because if it's not half then it won't smell like French Vanilla when he pours the coffee in and it doesn't smell like French Vanilla then it'll look like the yard at the end of January when the snow is melting because February is rainy, and he wants it to look like when he stays inside and sits at the fire place during a blizzard in December.

It's a simple gesture, what he does. He's trying to be polite when he leans over to pour the coffee into Eridan's cup, filling it to an inch below the very top. 

He can't do anything but stare, incredulous, face feeling numb. The world screeches and crashes around him and his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest and drown itself in the brown sludge in front of him. His eyes are wide and his hands tremble as he reaches out, grabbing the warm ceramic delicately in his palms. He watches the contents ripple, unsteady in his grasp, and Sollux's eyes are on him again. Observing. Curious. Hesitant. He opens his mouth, like he wants to ask what the fuck is wrong with him – probably accuse Eridan of not drinking the swill because _he_ made it, which honestly, he normally would have said – but instead he shuts his jaw, putting the pot back onto the burner and exiting the kitchen with his caffeine.

Eridan doesn't remember how long he stands there for. 

When he brings the mug to his lips it's still warm, and he can see snowmen in the park with little hats tucked over their heads, carrot noses and painted on smiles. He hiccups and quietly sobs into his cup. 

He drinks all of it. 

It tastes like childhood.

### 

The bees return in his dreams. He's laying in a field of flowers, the sun bright and glaring down at him, but it doesn't hurt. Nothing ever hurts. He lifts an arm and reaches for the sky, as if he could grab the cyan from it in his hand and pull it down to cover himself like a blanket. If only it were that easy.

A bumblebee soars over his head, followed by another, and another, and then five more. They wrap around his wrist, fly passed his elbow and to his neck. It's soft. He can feel this. They tickle his chin with their fur and he rolls over, unafraid, and then he's falling through blades of grass and dandelion seeds, right into a pair of arms. He's suddenly very naked and he hears something – no, _someone_ moaning, someone wrapping bedsheets around their legs, the sounds of springs squeaking telling him that they're arching into their mattress, writhing against it. He tries to open his eyes, and it's lucid, feels like there are hands on him and pressing him down into his pillow, forcing him to rock his hips into the bed in a clumsy, jutting manner. He's awake enough to realize that the person moaning is himself, crying meekly into the empty room.

He can see a shop down a dark alley, violet fog and pink flashing signs. Something is playing in a tavern, a quiet voice, so quiet, singing and humming, sending shivers through his bones. It melds into a forest, back and forth as a pressure builds in his abdomen, clenching and pushing, and he spreads his knees apart, clutching his covers. His orgasm is short and leaves him feeling too sensitive, hissing at the feeling of soaked underwear. Eridan groans as he pushes himself up, sitting back against the wall. He lets his head fall against it while he catches his breath, coming down from the visions and overstimulation. He's going to have to change his sheets. And his pants. “Fuck.” He curses, running his hands through his hair in aggravation.

He doesn't normally have wet dreams. Rarely do things pan out in a way that gets him worked up. There was something about this time that seemed to bother Eridan, but he tried to ignore it, tried to push it far into the back of his mind as he ripped the covers off his mattress, throwing them into a pile on the ground with his pajama bottoms and underwear. He scrambles sloppily into a new pair of pajama pants, not bothering with the boxers this time because hes just going to shower once he gets back from the laundry room.

It's a small space in the basement of the house, tucked into a far corner in the musky, cold, unfinished room. He shoves his things into the washing machine and dumps in a capful of detergent, turning it on and setting the timer. It's loud and sends vibrations through the concrete floor. Eridan curls his toes at the feeling of it. He doesn't see anything from this. It's laundry, smells like the anti-static tissue he puts in the dryer so his shirts don't stick together, looks like a damp basement in a place he'd rather not live in.

 

When he makes his way upstairs, the bathroom is already occupied. His roommate is showering and there's music playing from beyond the door. It's a sound Eridan doesn't mind. He likes Sollux's music, surprisingly. The sound of synthesizers and techno beats look like droplets of water on a glass surface, smooth and gentle and massaging the curves of his brain. He could fall asleep to it. He _has_ fallen asleep to it. “Sol?” Eridan knocks, waiting for a reply. There's nothing. He knocks again. “Sol, how long're you gonna be?” He asks, speaking a bit louder now. He doesn't like the way his voice bounces off the walls and echoes in his ears.

“Damn it, ED. Just give me, like, 10 more minutes.” Sollux calls back, sounding frustrated.

Well, alright.

He sighs and turns, leaning his back against the door and closing his eyes. He'd listen to the music while he waited. 

It lulled him into a pleasant series of daydreams, beats crossing in patterns like liquified electricity, an array of neon greens and yellows. The colors intertwined and came together in harmony but they didn't blend, always always always unchanging no matter how many times they collided or sunk below the black waters they danced over. He lets his body and head rest back against the door, wiggling his fingers by his sides to make sure he was still alive. Still a human. Sometimes it felt like his entire body was unraveling, absorbing into the music and turning _into_ it – as cheesy as that seemed.

He's enjoying a nice display when the music suddenly gets louder. It feels like it's ringing in his ears delightfully, cutting through a noisy filter and coming in crystal clear. He wants to touch it. He wants to reach out and grab the sound waves and pull them into him.

He wants to not fall on his ass when the door is yanked open behind him and he goes stumbling backwards. “Holy _shit_!” Sollux curses and Eridan yelps, tripping back and right into the other man. He manages to stay on the balls of his feet because Sollux looped his arms under his, catching him at the expense of dropping his clothes and iPod onto the wet tiles of the bathroom. “What the fuck were you doing?”

It's too much for him. He can feel it creeping up like the calm before the storm. It's hot, too hot, too wet, and Sollux is too close, too close too close _too close_ and he's touching him, oh God he doesn't like being _touched_ , not when he's coming down, _never when he is coming down_. And the music, he can't hear the music. Everything is suffocating him and grabbing his throat like it wants him to die and he panics, scrambling out of Sollux's arms. “Don't fuckin' touch me!” He shouts, shoving Sollux away. He's breathing too heavy, much too heavy for this situation, and then it hits him. Sollux pushes him into the door after he grabs his things from the ground, walking passed.

“You're a fucking dick bag. You forget to take your crazy pills or something today?” He comments, venom in his voice (Eridan can see it, it drips from his mouth like yellow goop and sparks when it hits the floor).

“Some of us have fuckin' _boundaries_ instead of coppin' a feel on whoever they can get.” Eridan spits back, like spiders crawling off his tongue. Sollux doesn't say anything. His glasses are in his hands and Eridan can see the anger in those eyes, brown and blue, brown and blue… And then they're gone, because he turns and walks back to his room, slamming the door shut.

He doesn't cry. He absolutely doesn't cry. Even when the tears drop down his face he tells himself he _did not cry_.

### 

“Fef, it's gettin' worse,” He whispers into his phone, curled up on the couch and gripping a stress ball hard in his hand. “I can't take it, he's not good for my health. An' I keep havin' these nightmares of him killin' me, an' the drownin' ones are comin' back too. I don't know what to do. I can't breathe half of the time, an' I'm always on edge. Last month he caught me when I fell over an' I couldn't even handle _that_ , I almost had a break down.” He groans, trying to keep quiet so Sollux couldn't hear him.

_”I'm sorry, Erifin. That sounds so scary. Is he not respecting your disorder? I could talk to Aradia about this for you.”_

Her voice calms him down more than any amount of physical exertion does. “No, not exactly… I mean, it's not like he knows about my condition, anyway. You'd think he'd figure it out by now.” He murmurs into his phone, instantly knowing that he's probably in the wrong here.

_“Guppy! You need to tell him about your Synesthesia! It's been a year now. I'm sure Sollux would understand a lot more than you think. You know, his older brother Mituna has Synesthesia too.”_

“Yeah, but Mit also has fuckin' _aspergers_. I don't want him thinkin' I'm autistic.”

_”And what the fuck is wrong with being autistic, Eridan?”_

He flinches at her tone of voice, sitting up and putting the ball on the table. “N-Nothin'! I mean, I just don't want him to treat me… differently. Y'know?”

 _”So you want him to keep pushing you over the edge when you're in 'the zone' or overstimulated?”_ Feferi rebuts, a hint of accusation in her voice. It makes Eridan want to shrink and hide away in a hole. _”The only thing that'll change is how he handles your presence. You need to tell him! Maybe he'll even be able to help you out. I don't want you suffering anymore, either, but it was your choices to follow me and Aradia up here and rent a house, so you need to work through this!”_

Eridan growls, scratching his head. “I don't know… Maybe it's best if I go back home. Maybe I just need to be away from _him_ for a while. I've been havin' other weird dreams an' shit too...” He starts, and Feferi makes a confused sound.

 _”Other dreams? What kind of dreams?”_ There's a hint of concern in her voice.

“Y'know… dreams I'd rather not be havin' when the walls are so thin he can probably hear 'em!” Feferi starts to giggle on the other end, sighing in relief. “It's embarrassin', Fef!”

 _”Knowing Sollux, he absolutely does not care, or he's asleep when they happen. There's nothing to be ashamed about. Everybody has wet dreams, Eridan.”_ She's completely nonchalant when talking about it, and it makes Eridan's cheeks start to burn.

“I don't want him hearin' me on the off chance that one night I fuckin' call out his name or somethin'!” He raises his voice by a hair, and a door suddenly slams down the hall. Eridan whips his head around, seeing Sollux standing at the entrance of the room, jacket on and garbage bag in one hand.

“Is that FF?” He asks, pointing to the phone. Eridan nods slowly, Feferi's voice tiny and distant as she says something excitedly that he isn't listening to through the speaker. “Cool, tell her I said hey.” And just like that he's gone, exiting the house to throw the trash out in the front. Eridan's nose scrunches, able to smell the rubbage. It paints a picture of burning bears in his mind and he gets up, heading into his room.

“Sol says hi. Listen, I gotta go. I just… I really gotta think about this shit. You know I don't like tellin' people about my problems. Especially him.” 

_”Of course. Stay safe, guppy. Keep me updated on how things turn out. I love you!”_

“Love you too, Fef.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs used in this fic:
> 
> *Title: We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed by Los Campesinos!  
> *With You, Friends (Long Drive) by Skrillex  
> *Maps by Maroon 5
> 
> UPDATE: I decided to break the fic up into more chapters because it's long as fuck


	2. Chapter 2

Today was the day.

He decided it when he woke up, but he probably decided it when he was sleeping first. He dreamed of climbing an endless tree full of hives and nests and cocoons, going up up up, higher and higher until the green leaves turned pink and the bark faded to teal. The sky almost seemed to split and the sun turned red, barring down on him heavily until he was hot and squirming, hands with familiar slender fingers pulling him down, down, down into the ground... Eridan didn't let the dream finish. He'd become too self conscious, too aware of himself.

He wore the clothes he felt most comfortable in. An old 30 Seconds To Mars shirt (This Is War was his favorite), and his best purple skinny jeans. He breathed in the fabric of his shirt and for a moment he let himself be taken back to the memory of when he first got it. He was with Vriska, and she got it for him as a birthday gift. His first love would always be a cool, autumn afternoon. It left him in a good mood as he slipped out of his room and headed down the hall.

“Sol?” He called out as he knocked on the others door, light, not too loud, but enough to be heard.

“It's open.” Sollux's voice calls back and Eridan enters the room, peering into it. It wasn't often he was in the others space. It was surprisingly neat, but he supposed it had to be since he worked from home. There was a long desks lined up around the far wall of the room, computers humming on he surface, running programs on top of programs and scrolling through walls of text. Eridan didn't know what he was sensing, but it felt like pollination. More stupid bee things. 

“Tastes like fuckin' wax in here.” He blurts out, unable to catch himself.

“What?” Sollux questions from the bed, laptop sitting on his knees, as he looks up at Eridan and raises his eyebrow.

“Nothin'. So, listen, I wanted to talk to you about somethin',” He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Eridan tries to look casual, hands in his pockets, but he's sure he looks more like a nervous idiot. “Seein' that we've been roommates for about a year an' a half now, I think we should be honest about each other's… mental health. Y'know, in case of emergencies, or some shit.” He shifts on his feet, fiddling with the lint in his pockets to help keep himself calm. Sollux is unrelenting in his glare, and Eridan thinks he should probably just leave. This was a bad idea.

“… Did AA put you up to this?” He asks, suspicion in his voice, and it has Eridan finally looking back at him, confused.

“Um… no? Ara hasn't spoken to me since Easter.” He shuffles his feet, beginning to feel even more uncomfortable. He didn't like this. He was starting to get anxious. “Why?”

Sollux clicks his tongue and goes back to working on whatever it was on his laptop. “No reason. I'd rather not have this conversation, actually, so I am politely declining your offer. I don't want to know what goes on in that head of yours, and you don't want to know what goes on in mine.” He's quick to answer, immediately shutting the man down.

Eridan can feel his heart sink into his stomach, and his ears twitch at the clicking of Sollux's keyboard, inconsistent as usual, pressing hard on the space bar, the crunch of that stupid backspace key. “Sol, I _really_ think it's important that we talk about it.” He persists, earning a low groan from the other.

“Since when have you ever been fucking interested in talking to me about shit that didn't involve you putting ground rules on every single one of your things in the house?” He spits out, trying to sound offensive. And he does.

“Jesus, I'm just tryin' to see if you could stand to not be a ragin' fuckin' jackass for five minutes if I ever had a breakdown, Sol!” Eridan pulls his hands from his pockets, balling them into fists at his sides.

Sollux closes his laptop, shoving himself out of bed. “Oh, great, so this is just more shit that's _all about Eridan_! What do _you_ even have to worry about, ED? Whether or not the barista gave you decaf? Wow, so traumatizing! Why don't you tell me about all the times you've ever been prescribed the wrong medication, or ran out of pills during the worst week of your life and didn't get them for another 14 days, making you near suicidal? How about you describe to me what it feels like to not want to get out of bed in the morning because the weight of how fucking depressing your life is feels too God damn crippling? But you want _me_ to not be a _raging jackass_ for five fucking minutes so that I can cater to you? What a fucking surprise!” He waves his arms for emphasis, sarcasm lacing his voice. “You're a _joke_. Don't make me laugh.”

It hurts. All of the words hurt. They're knives, sharp and long, and Eridan can feel them cutting into his body. It aches so bad he needs to grab his chest, but instead his hands go to his ears because it feels like there are fists racking his brain and beating it like a sandbag. This _was_ a bad idea. He was a fucking idiot. He shouldn't have listened to Feferi. He should've stayed in his room.

His cheeks are hot with tears and Sollux is yelling about something else now but he doesn't hear – doesn't listen – turning his back and leaving the room. His legs trudge through red water, but it sticks to his legs like syrup and his calves are burning with tension as the floor devours him from the ankles up. His room isn't that far away, but it feels like he's been walking for hours, days even, and he's not sure if he can make it. He can't. He won't be able to. He doesn't remember the last time he had an attack this bad, a horrible abomination of the Synesthesia and anxiety. It warps his mind and clouds his thoughts, and Sollux's voice is just static.

Everything is static.

He stops and presses his hands hard against his ears, inhaling deeply. It's nothing but foam and fuzz and it makes him gag, like he's eating steel wool, and his legs begin wobbling. He can't breathe, and he does the only thing he knows how when he gets like this.

“Fef. Fef. _Fef, help me, please._ ” He heaves out, sobbing hard and shaking as he struggles to form the words. He's sure he's on the floor now, but he can't tell. It feels like he's drowning, his hands move to his chest and neck. He's going to die. He's sure of it. This time he's really going to die. His senses were going to swallow him whole and spit him out, and nothing but bones would remain.

 

_”We fell in love with gravity. And I really, really miss you._  
_Oh, I love you. You, you, you._  
_All I love, all my love._  
_All my love.”_

A chill runs up his spine and music begins to pour into his ears, the kind that he likes best, the ones with the beats and the synthesizers, the one that Feferi plays for him in the car when he's had a bad day and she picks him up from wherever he's walked off to, one mile, five miles, 10 miles away, wherever his feet had taken him because he just needed air, he needed to walk, he needed to let his senses breathe. Needed to get out of his head.

It's the one that makes him feel like he's coming undone, melting into atoms while his heart creates fireworks in the core of his body.

There's an MP3 player in his lap, full volume on speakers; dark green, not his, his is yellow and has ducks on it. He reaches out anyway, holding it close, letting the beat thrum against his chest. Who's is this?

“Okay, I've got the song playing, I think he calmed down... Yeah, he's not crying anymore. What do I do now?… Uh, do I have to? Last time he- ...okay, alright, you're the boss. He better not punch me though… Yes, I know, I'm a fucking idiot. What else is new?… Uh huh. Okay, I'll call you back.” He can hear Sollux talking to someone, but there's no one else here. His feet shuffle across the rug, coming closer until he's behind Eridan, sitting down and scooting in close. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him in, hugging Eridan against him, and things begin to look a bit more clear.

He feels like he can breathe again, nearly gasping when he comes back. He doesn't like being touched. Not when he's coming down. _Never when he's coming down._

But he rolls over anyway, dropping the MP3 player onto the floor so he can curl up in Sollux's lap, burying his face in the other mans chest as he grips the front of his shirt. He takes in a deep breath. Once... twice... three times. He nuzzles his nose into him and sighs. He smells like metal and Dr. Pepper. It tastes like honey. His arms feel like home, too much like Feferi, maybe _better_ than Feferi. A rumbling comes from his heart and for a moment Eridan realizes that he might be humming, but he pretends he isn't paying attention enough to notice. Pretends that he can't hear anything over the music and the way he sees flashes of gold and red when slender fingers slide up the back of his shirt, smooth and soft against his skin. He pretends he doesn't notice the way Sollux shifts, getting into a more comfortable position, optimal for hugging and cuddling and other kinds of bullshit he would probably deny doing until the day he died.

He pretends to not notice a lot of things, like when he feels the faintest hint of a kiss on the top of his head.

### 

“I think we should probably talk about yesterday.” Sollux crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counter. He stares seriously at Eridan while the man makes himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

He can feel his face sulk as he walks to the fridge, pulling out the milk to pour into his cereal. “There's nothin' to talk about. Fef told you everythin'. I've got Synesthesia, misophonia, and anxiety. I'm a cocktail of disaster, one part sensory processin' disorder, the other part a clusterfuck of panic attacks.” He responds, emotionless, taking a spoonful of flakes into his mouth.

“Don't give me that bullshit, ED. We have _a lot_ to talk about,” He sighs, stepping forward. “Look, I'm sorry I made you… freak out and shit. I didn't know. MT has it too, and I should have known better or read some of the signs better. I feel like a dick.”

“That's because you _are_ a dick.”

“I'm starting to reconsider this apology.”

“... _Go on_.”

“Anyway,” He starts, shifting his weight on his feet. “Even though you've been a total douchefuck to me too, I'm sorry for making you... _you know._ ” He pops his tongue into his cheek, biting it, and Eridan looks at him blankly before staring back into his bowl. 

He's lost his appetite. It's awkward on several kinds of levels now, and the only sound he can hear is the crackling of his Frosted Flakes in its milk. He doesn't need to imagine anything to know it's soggy. Tastes soggy, smells soggy, looks soggy.

“So...” Sollux clears his throat. “What sounds _don't_ you like? The ones that, uh… mess with your misophonia?” He asks, staring at his feet. “You know, besides yelling. Just so I know them.”

Eridan taps his spoon against the counter top, grimacing. “I don't like the sound of people havin' sex.”

There's a long pause.

“Seriously?” Sollux asks, intrigued.

“Yeah, it's fuckin' disgustin'. An' I can hear it through the plaster whenever you're watchin' _porn_ on your fuckin' computer with the volume too high in your headphones. Shit is like nails on a chalkboard. I usually leave my room or put my earbuds in when you do it.” He spits bitterly, glaring now at the other.

“You can _hear_ that?” He puts his head in his hand, letting out a mix between a sigh and laugh. He sucks in a breath and gives Eridan his attention once more. “What else can you hear?”

“That crumb that's been fuckin' stuck under your backspace for like the passed year when you dropped that bag of Doritos on it. Your typin' gives me nightmares sometimes.” He admits, swirling the spoon in his cereal again and experimentally taking a mouthful of the flakes. It's awful, just as he expected. Totally inedible now. Eridan swallows it anyway, pushing the thing away from him when he sets the silverware back down. “The wall's like cardboard, Sol. Haven't you noticed by now?”

He thinks he catches the tiniest sign of a blush on the others cheek when he glances over. It's fleeting, like he's been caught off guard, caught remembering something he shouldn't be, and he quickly pushes his glasses up his nose and coughs, forcing a deadpan expression onto his features. “Not really. I usually have music playing.”

“Hmm, that so?” Eridan muses, a bit skeptical, but changes the subject anyway. “What about you? Anythin' I should be worryin' about, like how to defend myself the next time you try an' wring my neck in the fuckin' hall?”

Sollux sticks his hands in his back pockets, grumbling lowly. “There's not much to do except either get out of the way or beat the shit out of me. Bipolar, expect the mood swings from now until forever.” He states firmly. “Things turn a bit sour when I'm off the meds. Try not to get me in a bad mood when that happens, or better yet just steer clear altogether.”

“Dully noted. An' you call _me_ the drama queen?” Eridan chides, carrying his cereal to the garbage.

“You're not gonna finish that?” 

Eridan stops, hovering over the trash can with his breakfast. “Um, no? It's all soggy now. Kinda lost my appetite when we started talkin' about serious shit anyway.”

Sollux pulls his hands from his pockets, extending them out and making a grabbing motion. “Give. I'll eat it.”

With a dissatisfied groan and a final questioning look, Eridan hands it over. He reaches into a drawer to pull out an eating utensil for the other man, but Sollux just takes the spoon that's already in his hand, dipping it into the bowl and taking a mouthful of milk-logged flakes. “Ugh, Sol.”

“What?”

“My mouth was on that.”

Sollux blinks, swallowing before going in for an even bigger mouthful. “So? I'm not a germophobe.”

Eridan makes a face, scrunching his nose as he watches the other man continue eating the mushy cereal. It makes a sound that has him gritting his teeth, but he doesn't say anything about it. “You're basically swappin' spit with people when you do that. Don't you think it's nasty?” He mutters, leaning a hip on the counter.

“You realize 'swapping spit' is just another way to say 'kissing'.” Sollux states with a curl of his lip, so simply, so confidently, it has Eridan's cheeks turning pink. 

“Sol, are you implyin' that makin' out with a spoon is somehow the same as kissin' an actual person?” Eridan cocks an eyebrow, folding his arms over each other as his scowl deepens.

Sollux clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Don't be a fucking idiot. _Both_ people have to eat from the spoon after one another for it to count. That's how indirect kisses work. Same with drinking from the same straw. Don't you know anything?”

“I know that this sounds like a bunch a' stupid horse crap.” He scowls, pushing away from the counter. “I'm goin' to my room. This conversation has officially gotten too weird for me.” Sollux gives him and shrug and a wave as Eridan steps out of the kitchen and into the hall.

He returns to his room and spends the next hour playing Super Bass on repeat, dicking around on some online forums and scrolling through Tumblr. He opens Netflix once or twice, contemplating on starting a new series, but decides not to. The tab hangs open, untouched for a good while. He's actually so bored he might nap, let the birds chirping take him into a slumber and clear his mind.

And so he does. 

He dreams of something laying on his chest, warm, soft, tickling his cheeks and purring gently against his heart. It's comfortable. He's floating in space, and he has no idea how he's breathing but it feels like he's free. He doesn't remember the last time he's relaxed so well, sprawled out. There's a low humming in his ears and it's not so bad, feels like the wings of a bird, looks like a canyon. And then there are hands on his face. Slender hands, smooth and precise. They yank his ears but it doesn't hurt. There's a pressure on his lips and a body pressed against his, tugging and pulling and kissing and Eridan thinks he might be falling. 

He leans back, just enough to glimpse at the person in his arms, just enough to see their face.

Blue and brown. It's the first thing he notices.

He jolts awake, staring at the star stickers on his ceiling. “Ugh...” Eridan groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes, hard. Hard to enough to maybe erase the things he saw, erase when he felt.

This was becoming an issue.

When he pulled them back there were floaters in his eyes and he blinked them away, grumbling as his ears twitched, searching for sounds of life. There was a shuffling on the other side of the wall, a slight squeak of springs in a mattress that told Eridan the other man was probably working in bed again. His fingers tapped and tapped and tapped at his keyboard. Eridan leaned against the wall, putting his ear to it. He could hear the fan of his desktop running in the background, the music faintly playing from his headphones, and the crinkly sound his mouse made when he scrolled down a page. He blinked, straining as he heard a low noise. It was hushed, barely above a whisper. He couldn't hear anything for a moment, suspended in free fall, in silence, and then it came through. It prickled, like cactus needles, poking through fabric and just barely making its presence known. A small, tiny thing that if stepped on it would surely hurt.

“I miss the taste of a sweeter life… I miss the conversation...” He sung, quiet as a mouse, as he typed away at whatever he was doing. The mattress cried under his shifting weight again, and there was a dull thud against the wall where Eridan was listening. His voice became more clear, closer, and he continued to sing, and it was nice.

So nice.

His voice looked like flowers in the summer breeze, gold and white and green, and there were wind chimes and a porch and maybe a tree. A cherry tree, pink petals and little red berries hanging from its leaves. It smelled like fresh air, made his heart beat skip once, twice, and it fluttered and wrapped itself in silk.

It felt like freedom, and there was something pleasantly familiar about it.

He shifted in bed, moving so he could face the wall better, so he could _hear_ better, and his hands touched the surface. “I hear your voice in my sleep at night… Hard to resist temptation...” His finger tips began a soft thrumming against the wall, picking at a crease in the shoddy wood, and he wished he could curl up in the arms of Sollux's singing and let it take him away to another place.

And then it stopped. He froze, and the wall creaked under his weight as the other moved away. Eridan was sure it was barely thicker than his hand, and that's why it swayed, dipping ever so slightly where he was slouched against it. He quickly made to move from it, panicking. It sunk back into position and he took in a shaky breath, eyes wide.

“ED?” Sollux called out, slowly, and Eridan could feel his cheeks burn red. “Ampora, were you fucking _spying_ on me just now?” He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Instead he clambered out of the bed and ran for the door, swinging it open and making a break for the living room. He slipped on his shoes and jacket and he was gone, out of the house, sprinting and huffing and his lungs tightened hard in his ribs. It was painful, and maybe he wasn't exactly down enough yet for this. He didn't know where the fuck he was running to.

He let his legs carry him in a straight line for the better half of an hour before he turned back.


	3. Chapter 3

It's hard being a synesthete. It's hard and nobody understands.

Especially when bipolar roommates decide to flip their shit because somebody forgot to put the Wiimote back in the cabinet of the entertainment center, and he hasn't slept in 3 days because he's on a really big project and can't be arsed to pace himself like a normal fucking human being, and so instead of turning on the lights like a rational person would when walking around in the middle of the night he trudged through the damn house in pitch black darkness and stepped on the controller. Which now lays in pieces on Eridan's floor, worse than it was before because he threw it down when he kicked the door open and slapped the book out of Eridan's hand to start a screaming match in the middle of his bedroom.

“I don't understand why you can't just fucking _do it_ , it is literally _right there_ , Eridan!” He points a finger towards the shattered thing on the floor, and Eridan grits his teeth, seeing flashes of black.

“It's not my fault you don't fuckin' look where you're goin'! I'm a person, Sol, I _forget_ things sometimes. It's not like I can't just buy you a new one so stop your God damn bitchin'!” He shoves the other man roughly, nearly snarling in his anger. “You're such a _pussy_ it's almost embarrassin'. The only thing this display is missin' is spotlights.”

“Oh, that's real fucking big talk coming from the guy who _gets off_ to his roommate singing!” Sollux shoves him back, his fist wrapping in Eridan's shirt and grabbing it too tight, giving him a shake. Then another shake. And then both of his hands are on his collar, practically strangling him with how hard it's gripped. “So is this your game? You think it's cool to voyeur on me and then run away when you've been caught, then make up for it by buying me shit after it breaks because you misplace it?” Sollux spits the words so bitterly, like snakes, and a wave of panic hit Eridan like it's hide tide on bitchfit beach.

“ _W-What_!? I've never fuckin' done somethin' like that to you before, and frankly I'd never _want to_ you absolute fuckin' dipshit!” He struggles in the others grasp, clawing at his fists and trying to swipe him in the face.

“Don't act like you have no idea what I'm talking about, I've _heard you_ before, Eridan, and I fucking caught you last week grinding up against the wall like a bitch in heat! I was _right there_ , don't even try to tell me I'm wrong.” The two are nearly grappling now, stumbling back and forth. Eridan backs into his room, trying to find leverage, but collapses when the back of his knees hit the bed. They tumble down, Sollux pinning him to the mattress, and Eridan has never been more frightened in his entire life. A thousand and one scenarios play in his head at once of what could happen.

The only thing he can describe it as is when you pick up a rose and get pinched by a thorn.

“Th-That's not w-what happened, I've nev-never, never d-done somethin' like that!” He stutters, wincing. His hands fly to his ears instinctively and he turns his head away, trembling. “Let go of me. Let go!”

“Are you _therious_ right now?” Sollux hisses, making an overly frustrated noise. “No, no way, you can't fucking tap out before we're done arguing about thith, you thon of a bitch!” He's lisping hard and Eridan can't help but find it, in the far, far, far back of his mind, a little bit funny. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he was just an ass. It was probably because he was, indeed, an ass.

“Get off, get off, _get off_!” He thrashes under Sollux until he finally releases Eridan with a reluctant groan, rolling off of him and onto the bed, combing his hands furiously through his hair. “You're the w-worst, the fuckin' worst, Sol! You're a selfish, arrogant, drama hungry douche bag who can't respect other people unless they've sucked your dick. Consider yourself lucky, 'cause this is it. I'm movin' out. You'll never have to deal w-with me again!” Eridan sits up, clutching his chest. He needed to breathe. Or scream. Or something, anything, he just didn't want Sollux near him anymore. “Fef was wrong, you don't understand anythin' at all. I can't believe I ever thought your singin' was nice! I can't believe I ever liked-”

_CRASH!_

Eridan froze, heart leaping into his throat as the sound of shattering wood hit his ears.

His eyes traveled up, slowly, afraid of what he was going to see.

The first thing he noticed was the way Sollux's fist had punched through the shitty divider, wood splintering around his wrist as he kept it there, shaking in anger. There were cuts on his arm from scraping against staples that lined the inside of the board, and Eridan was scared of what his hand might've looked like compared to it.

“Sh-Shit,” Sollux murmured, voice wavering. Eridan looked at his face next, seeing a mix of everything in his expression; anger, sadness, hurt, regret. He was forcing a smile, as if he somehow found this situation to be laughably pathetic. “Thith really hurtth, ED.” He choked out a chuckle, then a sob, and Eridan felt like an ice canon had blasted him directly in the body when tears began streaming down the man's cheeks. It was so pitiful, and it instantly brought him down from his senses as a surge of something else took over. He knew the other needed help. He needed to take responsibility.

“Okay, w-wait right there, Sol. Or, I mean, I guess you hav-have no choice. Just – Fuck it, don't move. I'll be right back.” He stammered, leaping out of bed and running trough the house. He ventured down into the basement to grab the toolbox, stubbing his toe against the staircase and again on and end table in the hall on his way back to his room. 

Sollux was still there, still crying, and Eridan felt like he was going to start throwing up rocks. He dropped the box down onto his mattress, pulling out a hammer and jamming it into the hole by Sollux's hand. Very carefully he used the flat end of the head to pull and peel away parts of the board, jostling it around and crunching slivers of wood together so he could make the entry wider. Sollux watched intently through his wet glasses, waiting until the hole looked big enough for him to slide his hand out of.

When Eridan saw it he immediately dropped the hammer and grabbed the other man's arms, pulling him to his feet. “Fuck, fuck, I really hope you're up to date on your tetanus shots. Move your fuckin' feet, we gotta disinfect it.” Sollux stumbled behind him as he dragged the man through the house and into the bathroom. He hastily pulls the peroxide and bandages out of the cabinets above the sink, turning on the faucet full blast, cold, so cold it nearly makes Sollux recoil when he shoves the mans hand under the stream of water.

“Thith thuckth.” He sniffles, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes under his glasses. He hisses as Eridan picks pieces of wood out of his cuts and fishes out a staple wedged deep in between his knuckles, which are red and swollen already. “ _Ow ow_ , it hurts, stop!”

“That's w-what happens when you punch through God damn drywall. You don't deserve my kindness after what you fuckin' said to me.” He dumps peroxide ungraciously over the mans cuts and pins his arm to the sink to prevent him from worming away. Sollux doesn't put up much of a resistance after he accidentally twists his elbow the wrong way the first time he tried to escape. Eridan washes out the cuts sufficiently before turning off the sink, gabbing a towel and drying off Sollux's arm so he could begin bandaging him. They didn't have gauze wrap, but they had the big fucking band-aids that covered knees and elbows, so he put a couple of those on along with some regular sized ones for the other areas. They _did_ have compression wrap from that one time Eridan sprained his wrist moving the couch, so he grabbed that from the cabinet and wrapped it securely around Sollux's hand. “It's so the bandages don't come off. Didn't look like anything was broken, but you should still see a doctor.”

Sollux clenches and unclenches his hand slowly, watching his fingers, before he wipes his palm on his shirt for no real reason that's noticeable. He opens his mouth to say something but Eridan doesn't let him.

“You're ruinin' me. You hear that? I can't fuckin' stand bein' around you. I just want to be near Fef again.” He pushes Sollux out of his way as he exits, heading back to his room.

What a fucking sight.

He kicks his book and the broken piece of shit Wiimote out of the way as he heads over to his bed, carelessly sliding the tools off of the mattress and onto the ground. They clatter loudly as they make contact with the floor and each other, and it has him seeing tiny, sharp explosions in his mind. There's wood and plaster and staples all over his sheets and he groans, putting his head in his hands. He couldn't even lay down.

“Do you need me to get the vacuum?” Sollux's face appears in front of him, peeking through the hole in the divider. His voice is sheepish and a complete 180 from how he'd been shouting and screaming at Eridan before.

“No.” Eridan replies quickly before inhaling deeply, trying to picture a better place from a better time in his life. “I'm going out for a walk.”

He doesn't bother grabbing a jacket. He takes his scarf and wraps it tightly around his neck, trying to pretend that he's tying a noose, empty promises to himself that he'd do it if he had the incentive. Always promising, never coming through, always something _getting in the way._

 

He walks for a long time. Straight line as usual. It's one of his longest yet, and by the time he's done his legs are too tired to carry him back.

 

He's gone for hours, unwilling to go back home, but he's forgotten his phone and the city is too loud and too bright for him to handle in such a bad mood, so he calls for a taxi and the ride back home is so much shorter. He pays the cab driver and drags his feet to the front door. He wants to make a pillow fort under the computer desk in his room and put on his fairy lights and read shitty romance novels until he passes out. It's only 5PM but he feels like it's 10 at night.

He unlocks the door and enters the house, lazily looking around. His eyes fell to the couch, on a sleeping Sollux, and he bit the inside of his lip in anger. The TV was on and there was an Xbox controller on his torso, held steady by his hand as his chest moved up and down with each drowsy breath.

Eridan felt himself marching over and opening his yap before he knew what'd even hit him. “I can not even fuckin' _believe_ you bitched an' moaned at me about the Wiimote when _your ass_ is sleepin' on the couch with the Xbox controller clung to you like a security blanket!” He yanked the thing out of the others mans grasp just as his yelling had woken him up. Sollux gasped and, upon seeing Eridan, scrambled to his feet.

And then he hugged him, too close and too tight.

Eridan tried not to freak the fuck out.

“Please don't leave.” His voice was tiny, pleading and innocent, and Eridan felt his heart sink into his stomach.

“Sol, this isn't workin'.”

“It can work. Don't leave me alone, I can't be alone again. KK's gone, and AA's gone, and-”

“Stop! They're not _dead_ , Sol, Jesus Christ.”

“But it feels like it!” He pulls back, tears in his eyes, and Eridan would have been lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't already crying. “They're so far away from me. Sometimes I feel like the conversations I have with them are all in my head, like one day I'm going to wake up and they really will be _dead_!” He hiccups, and Eridan is reaching out, trying to thumb his tears away but they just keep coming, like they've been held back for so long.

“Why would you think somethin' like that?” Eridan asks in dismay, unable to understand.

“I don't know. Fuck, I just-” Sollux releases him, taking a step back so he can remove his glasses. “I don't want to be this way anymore. I remember being alone and it was fucking awful. Every day I was looking for excuses to die. But now it's different. I can't fall asleep without hearing you turning pages in your books on the other side of the drywall. Or when you're up late watching fucking _Sherlock_ on Netflix in the living room. I like those stupid Christmas lights and glow in the dark stars you have in your room. It feels like home, when I go to take a shower and see someone else's shampoos next to mine.” He scrubs at his eyes and Eridan is biting his bottom lip, his cheeks hot with tears and something else. He knew what home felt like – knew it too well.

And this _wasn't home_.

“I'm only convenient to you here because you don't have to feel lonely.” He mutters in a strained voice, taking a step back. “No. No, no, no. God, _no_. I can't, Sol, I can't fuckin' do that.” He sobs out, grabbing his scarf and wringing it in his hands. “I'm better than that.” His voice is meek and hitches. “Just because you pet my head an' called me pretty doesn't mean I'm obligated to vacillatin' at your will or expense! I don't want this. I like you, Sollux, okay? I _like you_ , this is the same shit that happened with Fef an' I can't do this to myself again!”

A pair of hands flew to Eridan's face, and before he could react or talk or scream, he was seeing red and purple and an onslaught of pixelated shapes, bursting into digital explosions like flowers in bloom.

Sollux's mouth was warm on his, hands and lips damp with tears, and Eridan _hated every second of it_.

“I'm fuckin' worthless garbage.”

“Me too.”

_Kiss._

“I hate myself.”

“Me too.”

_Kiss._

“This is disgustin'. You're disgustin'.”

_Kiss kiss kiss._

They found themselves on the couch, bodies smushed together like they were trying to absorb the other person into themselves. The kiss was salty and sweet, a mess of clumsy smacking and tongues licking, not knowing what to do with each other, hands trembling on cheeks and necks.

Eridan tries to let himself revisit a better place, a better time, but he can't. It feels like he's trapped, rolling down a hill in the dark, but the hill doesn't end and he just keeps rolling and rolling and his stomach starts to hurt and he wants it to just stop, _please just stop_. There's nobody around to hear or answer his pleas and the universe laughs from its presence in the skies and tells him this is what he deserves, an eternity of aching and pain and heartbreak for being the shittiest human being on the planet. This is his punishment for the time he threw a rock at Nepeta's cat in elementary school and killed it, when he sabotaged Feferi's relationships out of jealousy that she wasn't giving him her life, the time he tried to make out with Karkat when they were 17 and drunk, much too young, much too pitiful, all of the times he ever harassed and put down a poor boy with mental conditions and a brother who needed him alive and all Eridan did was make him wish he were dead.

Only being nice when it was convenient, only when he felt his feelings budding in his soul like the start of something awful, a premonition for doom. And now said person was clinging to him, desperately and selfishly, on the whim that he was too afraid to be in solitude for the rest of his life, not caring who he spent the time with, not caring what kind of hilariously tragic play this was turning out to be as if it were something out of Shakespeare. 

Eridan choked out a cry, lips quivering at the agony he felt inside of him, but Sollux swallowed those feelings whole and tried to bury them deep into the Earth, grabbing him tightly in his hands and smoothing out patterns in his cheeks and under his hair.

Sollux was right. He was a fucking joke.

### 

He dreams of bees.

Except the bees are different. They buzz around his head, bumping and stinging in the ways that don't hurt, and he's terrified. Not of the bees but what happens when the stingers sink into his skin and turn the flesh into a sickly green, paling until it's nearly white. His fingers drip like ectoplasm and he feels like he's melting into the floor, knowing he should be angry and upset but unable to bring himself to care enough, unable to muster up the energy to do anything but whisper an apathetic “Fuck you” to the world.

He sees himself sitting in a dark room with neon lights, slender hands picking up pieces of his body and trying to put him back together, trying to fit his heart back into his chest after it falls, repeatedly, cracking and crumbling each time it hits the floor.

He's lulled out of his slumber by the dull thumping in his head and the soreness in his eyes, shivering in air that's too hot in mid July.

He stares up at a ceiling that isn't his, bare and illuminated by the blue lights of a computer monitor. There's a body next to his, sleeping peacefully, and it's the only time he ever looks at ease. The only time he's completely off guard, his features relaxed and his body soft. It's the only time Eridan can look at him lately and feel the small shred of hope that maybe it's worth jumping through hoops.

They sleep together often. They don't have sex, but they kiss a lot. Only when Sollux wants to. Only when he's not put off enough by Eridan and feeling low enough that he needs to feel anchored and wanted. They don't touch each other, only their faces. It tastes like copper and looks like a dying tree. 

Eridan gazes at his face, and he wishes he didn't look so kind. He wishes he didn't feel the need to lean over and brush his lips against Sollux's, hesitant, knowing he could kiss him the way he wanted to, not the way Sollux did, not the way that hurt and made his senses dull.

“Don't.” His voice is calm, but strict. A warning. The expression he wears is so void that it makes Eridan feel sick. He's glaring, but he's not, brown and blue.

He pulls away and lays back down, rolling so his back faces Sollux.

He's so sure that this is it. This is the nightmare he's been woken up to. 

And it hurt far worse than the barbs he was so scared of before on bugs he could crush with his thumb.


	4. Chapter 4

_I taught myself the only way to vaguely get along in love  
is to like the other slightly less than you get in return._

_I keep feeling like I'm being undercut._

 

It felt like he was dying. Like he was dragging his body through a swamp, fighting off infections while leeches sucked out his blood.

He sat in the tub, door locked and curtains pulled shut to hide him even further. He grasped his phone in his hands, trembling, crying, wondering if he should call. What would Feferi think of him? What would she say? 

He spent a whole 5 minutes contemplating the situation as if it were the biggest decision of his life before opening a text and typing a message to Kanaya.

hey kan hypothetically speakin if you were to find yourself trapped between a rock an a hard place what would you do  


It feels like ages before she responds, but really it's only 30 seconds (he's not counting, absolutely not counting).

That depends. What is the hypothetical driving force that is crushing you between such faculties?  
the person i really like doesnt like me back the way i want them to an now it feels like this whole relationship is fucked sideways  
im goin crazy here like actually crazy i think  
i wish fef would come in an swoop me off my feet to save me an love me  
Then shouldn't you be asking Feferi about this if you'd like her to do that? People aren't psychic. You need to tell her about your problems if you want her help. She has insisted that you do so anyway.  
Although I'm more than willing to listen to your troubles, Eridan, don't get me wrong.  
Is there a reason why you aren't telling Feferi? I thought you were on rather good terms these days since the debauchery of your fling.  
i just feel like i cant breathe half the time an that one day its gonna be too much for me an im gonna jump off the deep end  
fef knows whats best for me she would treat me the way i needed it  
why did i ever think lettin her go an givin up on her was a good idea  
Because you came to you senses finally and found out how to reason with logic when she confessed that it wasn't working for her. And you apologized for everything you did to her and she forgave you. And now you do not wish to fuck up again. Is that not correct?  
ok i guess you have a point  
why cant i find someone whos exactly like fef  
i wish i wasnt stuck here  
kan its really hard  
Well, the best thing you can do here is to either talk about how you are feeling to this person, or break it off.  


They talk for a long time, texting back and forth. He feels like there's a light in his chest, and it feels fine. He hasn't felt _fine_ in 3 months, since he and Sollux started this ass backwards, twisted relationship of give and take. He eventually calls the woman and relaxes against the porcelain walls of the bathtub, playing with the shampoos and giving them little sniffs here and there to keep himself busy.

Even after they bid farewell to each other, he stays in the bathroom, watching the shower head drip water into the drain with little, light plops. 

When he finally leaves, he finds his way to the living room and lays down on the couch. 

He doesn't like the couch.

But he doesn't like the bedroom more. 

### 

“Sol, can we talk about somethin'?” He asks, looking up from his book to watch Sollux at the foot of his bed, playing some game on his laptop. It's dark except for the fairy lights he has on, illuminating the room in a warm, pink glow. It smells like the pier, and it's one of the only things he can bring himself to enjoy these days.

“No, but you're probably going to keep talking anyway.” He leaves it at that, not pausing his game to look up. 

Eridan bites his tongue, closing his book and hugging his knees to his chest. He plays with the corner of his blanket, rolling some string between his fingers. “What are we?” He asks, and he immediately regrets it because Sollux stops, fingers hovering over the keys.

“We aren't anything,” He replies, brow knitting. “You care too much about life, and I don't care enough. That's just how it is.” Eridan's chest tightens, gripping the blanket in his hand. He wrings it briefly before releasing, opening the book in his lap again and laying back down. He didn't know why he bothered asking. There was no reason to. Everything was unbearably silent, and not because of the lack of noise filtering in the room.

Eridan thinks about leaving. He thinks about packing his bags and grabbing a taxi to catch a plane back to home, back to California, but he knows he can't. He knows that Sollux will catch him, because Eridan doesn't try to hide. Doesn't try to sneak away. He stands at the door and says he's going back home, and he waits and waits until Sollux drags him back into the house, smothers him in kisses, makes him feel wanted and needed in ways that he's not. He could leave any time he wanted.

Maybe he likes suffering.

It all becomes routine. A routine Eridan wouldn't wish on his worst enemies.

### 

He cries.

Not Eridan.

Sollux cries. He can hear him in the bathroom, muffling his sounds into his hands as he talks to Aradia on the other end of his phone. He's pleading with her, asking her about when she's going to come back. Eridan doesn't know what she says. He can barely hear anything from the other side of the door as it is. It feels like a knife has plunged itself deep into his stomach, twisting and cutting and spilling out his insides. It felt like if he dared to look down, he'd see the blood dripping from his abdomen, watch the knife turn into a saw and cut him right in half.

He can hear the way Sollux whimpers her name, begging and sobbing in an uncontrollable mess, they way he's only seen the other man do once. Just once. Week 3 without meds, falling into an existential crisis and depression, clinging and wailing into Eridan's shoulder like he could somehow take his pain and harbor it for himself. He spoke about the voices, the way they mocked and cursed, the way they screamed, and Eridan had thought maybe there was more to Sollux's issues besides being Bipolar.

He tells Aradia that he loves her, and Eridan is gone.

 

He doesn't see Sollux for hours. When they finally meet again, it's 3AM and Eridan can't sleep. He can hear a woman's moaning; grunting and screaming loudly as if she's being murdered alive. Sollux has his headphones too loud again, and Eridan tries to cover his ears, tries to block out the sounds, but it hurts. It grabs him by the back of his brain and slams it into the ground, stomping on his head, stomping and stomping and _stomping, and_ -

He throws the covers off himself and sends his phone across the ground, but he doesn't care. His face is hot, his eyes sting, and his chest is tight. He storms down the hall and kicks the door open to Sollux's room. It bangs and slams against the wall, nearly putting a dent in the wood. 

_The son of a bitch isn't even jerking off._

Eridan stares at a shocked Sollux, the way his headphones aren't even resting on his ears, laptop sitting on his knees while he plays some shitty fucking game that Eridan truly _does not care about._

And then he's on him, across the room so fast he hardly has time to think, shutting the laptop and ripping the headphones from around the man's neck. The devices fall off the bed, landing loudly, and something snaps but Sollux doesn't bother checking, doesn't seem to give even half as many shits as Eridan expected him to. He pins him to the bed, hands around his neck and threatening to squeeze as he shouts, but he doesn't remember what he says. Doesn't hear it. His ears are clouded by static and he's so angry he can see lava pouring out of his mouth, flowing hot and heavy.

Sollux is grabbing him by the hair next and Eridan can't stop himself.

To be fair, Sollux had called him an ugly, over-bearing, hallucinating lunatic. He vaguely remembers calling the other a scrawny, pencil dicked, multipersonality, Siamese bastard right before punching Sollux in the mouth.

The moment his fist connected with the others jaw, he knew he had gone in too deep. They were shouting and screaming, and Eridan nearly cried when Sollux grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head against the nightstand. He was seeing stars and red and his body shook with anger as he grabbed the picture frame off the surface and threw it at Sollux. While the asshole was busy flailing his arms up defensively and cursing, it hit the floor and shattered. Eridan dragged Sollux off of the bed next, tripping the man and tumbling down onto the ground in a pile of wires, moving quickly to straddling the man's hips.

He punched him in the side of the head.

Then again.

And he would have done it a third time if Sollux didn't grab his face with his hands, twisting him this way and that until he was rolling, pinned to his back on the carpet beneath him, a piece of broken hard drive digging into his shoulder. Sollux's hands grabbed at his neck, too tight, and Eridan thought he'd seen a monster. A beast with two heads and two glowing eyes, body void of color and arms as thick as trees. His hand searched around him, splaying his fingers across the floor before he came across something sharp. He gripped it in his hand, cutting his palm against it, and lifted his arm high above, ready to strike with the broken shard of glass.

Sollux's hand caught his wrist in the air and forced it back as Eridan cried out, screaming and struggling. His wrist was twisted painfully and he winced, letting the glass fall from his grip and back onto the ground. And then Sollux released his throat, breathing heavily as his blood dripped from his lips onto Eridan's cracked glasses. His adrenaline pumped hard in his veins, and he could only watch as Sollux turned Eridan's palm over in his hands, staring at the gash in his skin. “I don't want to fight anymore,” The other man murmured, watching the thick, red fluid pooling in the creases of his skin. “Thith ith the fucking wortht.” He says next, and Eridan makes a strangled laugh because that's what he's been telling Sollux for over 2 fucking years now. 

 

He doesn't know why he bothers cleaning Sollux up. He doesn't understand why Sollux would do the same for him.

It's cold in the bathroom, and he watches lazily as the other man wraps his hand in gauze. It's sloppy and too tight, but he doesn't say anything; simply twitches his fingers, clenches his hand a few times, and lets Sollux continue treating the wound. Every time their fingers brush against each other, it stings in his heart. Every touch sends a volt of pain through his body that has nothing to do with his cuts and bruises, and he wants to curl up into a ball and sob.

When Sollux is done, he takes Eridan's hand in his, staring at it, rubbing circles into his palm. “I'm sorry.” He murmurs, too soft, too _genuine_ , and it has Eridan pulling his hand away, recoiling like he's just been burned. It feels like it. It really fucking feels like it.

“I've told you before. Don't be nice to me.”

### 

They stop kissing. They stop talking. It goes on like this for a week.

Every moment spent near each other is silent and quick. Eridan doesn't want to spend any more time around Sollux than he has to. He feels empty. Emptier than before.

He stops dreaming of bees. Instead he dreams of syringes, plunging into his arms and sucking, pulling out his blood and throwing it into stairwells in vials, never breaking but always mocking. He tries to follow, to take them back, pleading and screaming until his voice is hoarse. 

But he's tired.

Even in his nightmares, he is tired. The staircase is endless and he's exhausted before he even starts running, collapsing on a step and falling.

The stairs break beneath him, and it's so very dark. He floats, slowly, down into a plush surface, and his eyes open with a groggy aching feel to them when he wakes up from another uneventful slumber.

Eridan never wanted to get used to waking up at 2AM, but it's been like this for so long now he can't remember what it was like to ever have a good nights rest. He stares at the piece of cardboard he stapled to the drywall to cover the hole in it as he pushes himself up, sitting with his knees hugged tightly to his chest. Idly, like usual, he picks at a corner, already worn and ripped from previous stims.

He doesn't really know why he does it, when he leans close to the divider and presses a cheek against it.

Maybe he's lonely.

“Sol?” He calls out meekly, not too loud, not too low.

It's quiet on the other side. For a moment he thinks that Sollux is asleep before he hears a soft tapping. He doesn't recognize it. It's subtle and smooth, looks like cream, but Sollux still slams his thumb on the space bar with as much force as ever. “What?” Comes the other man's voice. Small like Eridan's, trying to pretend it's not interested, like it isn't straining to attempt conversation.

He knows he shouldn't bother with small talk. Neither of them are very good at it, and there isn't fuckall that Eridan could be asking about at 2 in the God damn morning. It's pathetic, really. The other man would have gotten annoyed and told him to get straight to the point anyway. He can already picture the exchange in his head, and he almost regards it with a bit of fondness. Everything was less complicated back when they first moved in. It was easy to let things roll off his shoulders and ignore it all.

“Can I come over?” He's holding his breath, waiting for the other to say no, to tell him to fuck off, tell him to enjoy sleeping by himself, tell him he's a jackass for breaking his laptop and making him buy a new one. He probably needed a new hard drive, he probably lost all of Sollux's work.

He starts to panic.

This was a stupid idea. He feels his blood run cold and Sollux still hasn't answered and _oh god_ he's moving away, he can hear the bed springs creak and cry out on the other side as Sollux leaves the bed. “Sol? Are you there?” He's pressing his ear to the wall, hands gripping the edges of the cardboard, and it hurts.

The silence hurts like something is grabbing his lungs and squeezing. He pushes away from the wall, nearly toppling out of bed when he clambers out loudly, legs wrapped up and stuck in a dip in the sheets. He curses, untangling and staggering to his feet, pacing and pacing and just _pacing_ the center of the room, hands in his hair and pulling hard. He has to keep himself grounded, keep himself from running away, keep himself here and not lost in another episode, _please not another episode_ -

“ED?”

He barely hears Sollux open the door. His nose is starting to run and his face feels tight, as if every one of his muscles are struggling to hold it in; _don't cry, don't yell, don't lost your shit again_. He stands straight, the hem of his shirt clasped so hard in his hands he thinks he might rip it, knuckles white and arms beginning to shake. There's a faint ringing in his ears, something that has him seeing black spots and static. He realizes that he's just staring and not talking, so he looks away, forcing a smile over his mouth so much that it makes him feel sick and anxious. “Hey.” His voice is dry and trembling. It's downright shameful.

Sollux takes a step into the room, hesitant, silently asking for permission to enter. Eridan doesn't respond. He doesn't make a movement to refuse, so Sollux continues. He listens to the sound of Sollux's jeans scraping against the carpet, shuffling carefully across the floor.

The other man stops in front of him, and Eridan swallows hard, letting out a broken sound. Some mix between a laugh and a sob. He doesn't know. Everything is unbearably awkward. He wants to open the window and jump out into the street, run into the noise and lights of the city and lose himself, never come home, fall into a spiral so hard that he never emerges from it.

There are hands on his face – too warm and too gentle to be for him.

Sollux presses his lips against Eridan's and it's _different_. It's soft. It's bright. It's hot and cautious. It feels like he's standing in a flock of butterflies, hundreds of delicate wings fluttering against him, and it smells like mint chocolate. It has Eridan wrapping his arms around Sollux's neck and pulling him close, desperately wanting more of it, wanting something that didn't look like the back alley dumpster on a rainy evening. His mind races and a burst of pink flashes in his eyes when Sollux moves his hands to Eridan's neck, then to his waist, tilting his head and beginning to push forward. He stumbles backwards until his legs hit the bed and the two of them collapse onto it.

Eridan doesn't know what to make of it when Sollux lays on top of him, not at his side, palms resting on his hips. He doesn't know what to think when those hands move under his shirt, sliding up his chest and brushing across his skin. Eridan doesn't dare make a sound, afraid he might scare Sollux away, make him stop, make him realize what the fuck he's doing.

The kiss is broken with a subtle, wet sound that has Eridan licking his lips.

“Is this okay?”

He looks up at Sollux, and for once those brown and blue eyes looks so pretty and it feels _nice_. So nice. Nostalgia settles down in Eridan's chest and he threads his fingers through messy, dark locks, uninterrupted and welcomed. He swallows hard, giving a small nod in response. He touches Sollux's hair, his ears, his cheeks and neck, almost unsure if this was actually happening. It could have been another dream, another hallucination; but the way those lips kissed his own and brushed along his jaw – and the tiny touches on his skin that made him arch and stretch against the mattress. It was all too real, too intimate.

He could drown in this feeling and it would be alright.


End file.
